


The Lies Behind Masks

by Selenay



Series: Assorted Fictional Recollections (AKA the prompt fics) [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, M/M, Masks, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2363072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a man who wore a mask as part of his normal job, the beauty of the masquerade was the chance to put on a different one. A new face, a new person. Just for one night, he could be someone else, with nobody aware that he was the man under the intricately carved devil's mask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lies Behind Masks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tumblr AU meme. An anonymous asks requested "Steve/Bucky, meeting at a masquerade AU'. It's not very AU, but there is a masquerade.

The beauty of masquerades is that they're a license to be who you aren't, be what you aren't. Even if the masks don't hide everything, they give the illusion of anonymity. To the wearer. To the observer.

The style of the mask makes a statement, but it doesn't have to be the same statement the wearer would make at any other time in their life. Feathers and sequins, dark velvet with barely a line of contrast, harlequins in every colour: underneath, the wearer could choose to match their mask, or be everything it wasn't, and that was the point. Nobody had to be what everyone thought they were.

For a man who wore a mask as part of his normal job, the beauty of the masquerade was the chance to put on a different one. A new face, a new person. Just for one night, he could be someone else, with nobody aware that he was the man under the intricately carved devil's mask.

Maybe that was why Steve couldn't stop staring at the man across the room. Normally he wouldn't look, wouldn't be so blatant, but tonight? Tonight he wasn't Steve, he wasn't any kind of captain. He was just a man in a devil's mask, leaning against a pillar. Watching.

The man across the room was wearing a black mask, so dark it blended at the edges with the shadows around him. Thin lines of silver highlighted his eyes and painted delicate patterns across his cheeks. It covered most of his face, leaving just the area around his mouth open.

His mouth, with lips painted black, and a shape that Steve almost thought he recognised. Almost.

A champagne bottle popping distracted Steve for a moment. By the time he looked back, the man in the black mask had disappeared. Steve peered around, but the man was nowhere in sight. There were other black masks. It was a popular colour at this masquerade. None of them were right, though. The people wearing them were the wrong shape--too tall, too thin, too muscular--and the ornamentation on the masks was different.

Black sequins instead of silver lines. Feathers where the other mask had been smooth velvet. Cheeks and nose on display instead of hidden.

A cold ball of disappointment gathered in Steve's gut. He hadn't know the man, hadn't wanted to talk to him, but there had been something about him that Steve hadn't been able to look away from. Something foreign and familiar all at once. It was what a masquerade was all about, but usually failed to be.

He pushed away from the pillar, the beauty of the masquerade somehow fading now that the man in the black mask had gone.

The cool air outside felt good on Steve's cheeks and arms. He reached up to remove his mask, but a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye stilled his hand.

A man, disappearing into the maze below the patio.

Steve tilted his head, considering for only a moment before following.

Little lights strung along the tops of the hedges provided just enough illumination to see by. Their soft golden glow and the faint strains of music from the party gave the place an ethereal feel. Anything might happen here.

A devil could follow a man in a black mask.

The man in the black mask could catch the devil.

Or maybe the devil could want to be caught.

Steve allowed himself to be crowded back against the hedge, branches prickling against the bare skin of his arms and neck. The man in the mask smiled with those black, familiar-strange lips.

"Who are you?" Steve asked.

The response was a kiss.

Mouths moving together, sharing breath. Hands tangling in hair, pulling close. Masks knocked askew, the edge digging into skin.

Lips and tongues, perfect harmony and so much heat.

A man in black, kissing a devil, smearing lipstick over the perfect redness of the devil's lips.

A devil who was a captain, but not tonight.

Steve's breath was coming too fast when the man in the mask pulled back, but he still managed to say, "Who are you?"

Black lips quirked into a mocking half-smile. "Who do you think?"

The air rushed out of Steve's lungs. His fingers were still tangled in the man's hair, their hips pressed together too tight, and the smears of black around that familiar-strange mouth called out to him.

Just one more taste. Just one.

He could be a captain tomorrow. He was a devil tonight. Devils kiss men in black masks. Captains don't.

"I don't want--" he started to say.

He didn't know how that sentence was supposed to finish. The ending was swallowed by another kiss before he got there.

Warm mouth, perfect lips. The kiss stole his words, his breath, and his heart.

He was a devil. Just for tonight, he could lie about when he lost his heart if he wanted to.

The kiss ended too soon, but Steve didn't move. Didn't open his eyes.

He shivered when cold air hit skin that had been warm before, but he refused to reach out. Refused to let himself hold on, hold back, and keep the man in the black mask near him. Devil or captain, that wasn't something he could do.

Not yet.

Footsteps moved away. Leaves rustled.

The lights were too bright when Steve finally opened his eyes. The music from the party was discordant, clawing at his ears.

Steve reached up, thinking to pull off his mask, but he hesitated. If he took it off, he had to go back to being himself again. Back to being the captain, who should be chasing after the man in the black mask until he ran the man to ground and hauled him...somewhere.

Deep down, Steve knew the man in the black mask would be back. He wouldn't be able to stay away. The kisses had told him that much.

There wouldn't be twinkling lights and soft music when they met next. He didn't know how it would happen. It could be moonlight, or harsh fluorescent lights, or the angry rattle of gunfire, but whatever it would be, they'd have this to remember. They'd have masks and black lipstick, slow kisses, and that would make everything work out right. Eventually.

Steve left the mask in place and went back to the party. He'd wear the captain's mask tomorrow.

The beauty of masquerades is that they're a license to be who you aren't, be what you aren't. Or sometimes, to be who you need to be, just for a while.


End file.
